


head(rush)

by andnowforyaya



Series: ink. [1]
Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Gen, M/M, Pain, Pain Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“First time and you’re going for a back piece, huh?” the manager had said, his grin wolfish with the snakebite piercings denting his lips. “I hope you like needles.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	head(rush)

He saved up forever for this, ticking coins into his bank account so slowly he thought he was going backwards, the image he wanted across the expanse of his back twisting and turning in his mind and on paper until it had shifted into something else entirely. He’d started with _Hokusai_ as inspiration, not because the artist meant anything to him in particular but because he’d seen that image of the wave towering over Mt. Fuji his entire life and it reminded him of his hometown. The wave had crashed into his sketchbook and brought with it seeds that grew into blossoms and vines that became a shield against the sea. Tattoos were supposed to mean something, so he said it was how he felt about love, even though all that really happened was he sketched and sketched and sketched until the thick paper bore his lines like scars and he liked what he saw.

He’d wanted a tattoo ever since he knew what one was. Daehyun was never one to take things halfway so he’d researched for months and chose a parlor that was known for its service and cleanliness and fair pricing, and he’d booked an appointment with one of the artists the manager had recommended, when he’d come in to speak to him.

“First time and you’re going for a back piece, huh?” the manager had said, his grin wolfish with the snakebite piercings denting his lips. “I hope you like needles.”

The parlor was brightly lit. Daehyun squinted as he entered, holding his sketchbook to his chest like it was ill-fitting armor. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and his bookbag and he felt like a kid in the waiting room surrounded by men and women who were so hip and cool. Daehyun wanted to speed-sketch all of their little movements, the facial expressions they made as they spoke to one another. The white walls were lined with pictures old and new.

The manager was behind the white counter. He grinned the same wolfgrin as when he first saw Daehyun. “You didn’t chicken out,” he said, his eyes narrowed but pleased. “Well, let’s see what we’re working with.”

Daehyun approached the counter slowly, and the girl hanging off of it left with her heels click-clacking against the wooden floors to disappear into the back. He put the sketchbook on the flat surface and the manager moved some of his things to make room as Daehyun flipped to the right page.

“This one,” Daehyun said, pointing.

The manager was silent. Daehyun wanted to squirm, feeling like he was presenting a final product to one of his professors at school and waiting for them to tear it to pieces.

The older man turned the sketchbook around to face him. “Hey, this is cool,” he said finally. “It’s different. Believe it or not, we don’t get a lot of people who bring in original art. They rely a lot on my artists. But this is cool.” He peered a little closer at it, and Daehyun felt his lips curl up into a smile at the praise.

“Thanks, ah--”

“Himchan,” the manager said. “Don’t you _dare_ call me _sir._ ”

“Himchan,” Daehyun said dutifully.

“Jesus, am I _that_ scary? You look shaky. You want some water before you go in?” Himchan leaned closer and closer and Daehyun was struck by the dark whisky brown of his eyes. Leaning like that, Daehyun could see down the neckline of his v-neck and the ink that sprawled from behind his shoulder onto his chest.

“No, I’m fine,” Daehyun managed to say.

“Yongguk will love this,” Himchan said, holding the sketchbook up now so he could look at Daehyun’s art from all angles. “Is there any room for interpretation? He freehands it like I mentioned so it won’t be an _exact_ copy, plus your body isn’t really a flat canvas like paper, so it’ll -- man, I _really_ like the work you did on the vines. Do you take commissions? You should think about it.”

“No,” Daehyun said again. He ducked his head. “I’m just a student.”

“Can’t hurt to start early,” Himchan advised, finally walking back and beckoning over his shoulder for Daehyun to follow.

He’d seen the backrooms before, but now that he knew he’d be occupying one of them, dogging Himchan’s steps made his heart rush in his chest like he was just about to crest over a hill on a rollercoaster. Himchan opened one of the doors in the hallway and entered. He put the sketchbook down on a long table that was next to a recliner and another chair.

The table had everything laid out upon it like he was getting ready for a surgery, and Daehyun wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference if not for the stand of potted colored inks at one end.

“We use a new sheet for everyone,” Himchan said, pressing a few buttons on the recliner until it was completely horizontal and then draping a sheet over it. “You’re going to need to take your shirt off. I’ve got another sheet for you to cover yourself if that’s what you want. Yongguk doesn’t care. Oh, he’ll say this, too, but: tell him when you need a break. Especially since this is your first session. It’s _not_ cool to pass out, or, you know, vomit.” He paused like he wondered if he’d said too much. Daehyun’s head was already spinning. “You good?”

“I’m good,” Daehyun said, putting his bag down near the door and climbing onto the recliner. Himchan placed another set of sheets neatly folded at the end of the seat, and Daehyun looked down at his knees.

“Great. He’ll be here in a couple of minutes. You just sit tight. Oh, and take your shirt off." He smirked as he said so, a gleam in his eye.

Daehyun flushed and did as he was told.

.

Yongguk exuded the kind of calm Daehyun needed in his life. He entered slowly and gently and knocked even though it was his own room, and he started setting up with the kind of grace Daehyun envied. He could see ink like a trellis over his forearms underneath the short sleeves of his t-shirt and wondered what he looked like underneath. He felt his nerves leave him as Yongguk snapped latex gloves onto his hands and fixed a mask over the lower half of his face. Finally, when Yongguk looked up at him from his seat beside the recliner, he introduced himself.

“So this is you?” Yongguk asked, looking over the drawing in Daehyun’s book.

“Yeah,” Daehyun said.

“What can I absolutely not change?” Yongguk asked him, prepping the color pots.

“Oh,” Daehyun said, “I don’t know. It’s fine as long as the general idea is there--”

Yongguk shook his head and Daehyun flushed like he was being scolded. “This is going to be on your body for a long time and you need to give me boundaries.”

Daehyun thought. The vines twisted around the blossoms and disappeared behind water. He’d spent a long time drawing and adding and taking away. One thing had not changed after the first draft. “This,” he said, pointing to a neat cluster of peony blossoms he’d spent over two weeks perfecting.

“Looks like a heart,” Yongguk murmured. “Like everything springs from it.” He met Daehyun’s eyes from under his lashes and seemed to blush, turning away and clearing his throat. “Not that I’m examining your art or anything.”

“Thank you,” Daehyun said. It was probably one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said about anything he’s drawn.

They spoke briefly about the dimensions of the tattoo and how long the first session would take and what Yongguk wanted to accomplish today. They would try to finish in two sessions. He was quiet after that. He asked Daehyun to lie down and kept his eyes away from his bare chest and Daehyun wondered if he looked especially naked to him, skin unblemished and unpierced and whole.

Daehyun turned onto his side facing away from Yongguk and felt the cool slick of numbing and antiseptic gel being rubbed into his skin. He pulled the extra sheet up over his thighs and the crest of his hips over his sweatpants. Next was the click-whir-buzz of the tattoo gun.

“This’ll sting,” Yongguk mumbled. “Tell me if you need to stop, or if you want to move or anything.”

Daehyun closed his eyes and counted his exhales as the whirring noise grew louder and louder. Pain flared along his shoulder and he couldn’t help the little whimper that choked out from behind his teeth at the suddenness of it, the way the pain spread so quickly through his nerves to his fingertips.

Then, abruptly, it was gone. Yongguk had pulled the machine away.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Daehyun breathed out, voice thin. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Brace yourself,” Yongguk said, and he seemed to be teasing. Daehyun wanted to turn around to see the smile on his face, how it would change his eyes, but he didn’t dare move.

The second time wasn’t as bad as the first. He’d been ready for it, at least, and held his breath through the initial prickle of feeling until he could hear Yongguk muttering something to himself behind him, and the lull of his voice made his muscles relax, his shoulder falling down from his ear. When he could breathe normally the pain had traveled like a tight knot from his shoulder down closer to his spine, and where it had touched throbbed. They spoke until none of the words coming out of Daehyun’s mouth were making any sense to him anymore.

“It’s coming out nicely,” Yongguk said, his voice a low rumble like far-off thunder. Daehyun felt something strange happening to his focus, like it was becoming hyper-acute and uncontrollable simultaneously. He imagined he could see himself as Yongguk was seeing him, the ink dark and thick over his skin and the way his muscles would jump every time the gun moved. Sweat was beading at his temples but he wasn’t warm. The constant pain was making him delirious. He hovered over himself like a ghost and saw the work Yongguk was putting into him. When the gun traveled across hard bone the sound that came out of his mouth was half-cry, half-moan, and he didn’t even have the capacity to be embarrassed.

Yongguk paused, and Daehyun grit his teeth together, rocking against nothing. “I’m fine,” he said. “Don’t stop.”

Yongguk did not stop. He brought the gun back to his skin and continued where he’d left off and Daehyun shut his eyes and felt how he was hard underneath his sweats, underneath the sheets. He wanted to wrap a hand around himself while Yongguk was doing this to him, but he clenched his hands into fists instead. He tried to lose himself in the pictures on the wall, but Yongguk brought him back, over and over, the sting of the needle demanding his attention as adrenaline with nowhere to go swam in his veins.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there with Yongguk spilling art across his skin, the pain a shroud over his body that he welcomed like an embrace. He liked it, he’d always liked it. He felt like Yongguk had struck him with lightning or thrown him out into empty space. He was scattered and floating but it was good; it was so, so good.

The buzzing stopped. It took a moment for him to realize it wasn’t the buzzing in his brain and limbs and blood but the whir of the tattoo gun that had disappeared. He hissed when something cool pressed against his back, aggravating the tiny wounds there.

“Sorry,” Yongguk said. “We’ve been at it for three-and-a-half hours, and I think this is a good stopping point. How are you holding up?”

Everything was coming at him through water. Breathing was slow and speaking was slow and Daehyun tried to think about his answer but nothing was surfacing. “I need...a moment…” he managed.

“Take all the time you need,” Yongguk said. He was doing something to his back that made all the hot pain rush out of it, and that, too, felt wonderful. “Take a nap, even. My next customer isn’t until this evening so this room is free, if you need to -- whatever. I’ll just clean up a bit. We won’t talk about after-care until you’re cognizant enough to take it in.”

He heard Yongguk bustling behind him but he wished he would leave for just a moment so he could take care of the ache between his legs. Even though he imagined the most unsexy things he could think of, he could still taste the way pain felt like a thin coat of sweat across his skin, and he knew he would be remembering it later tonight when he was alone in bed.

Finally, when he could sit up, he tried to do so, and Yongguk was there immediately, helping him upright. His head spun from the movement and he nearly pitched forward but Yongguk was there, again.

“Not bad for your first time,” Yongguk said. The mask was lowered under his chin and the elastic bands made his ears stick out. He looked young, and he was so handsome. He helped Daehyun see the ink over his back with a mirror and told him about keeping it away from water and sweat and infection as his skin healed. “I’ll see you in two weeks, Daehyun.”

The way Yongguk said his name made his tattoo throb, and he looked forward to it.

.

**Author's Note:**

> STOP WRITING NEW THINGS?! FINISH YOUR OLD THINGS GDI i scream to myself
> 
> [writing](andnowforyaya.tumblr.com) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/andnowforyaya)


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